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Taming My Vicious Feral Wolf Slave Novel Cover

Taming My Vicious Feral Wolf Slave

Kaylee woke up to the smell of rotting leaves and blood, realizing she had transmigrated into the grimdark fantasy novel she was reading last night. A robotic system in her head immediately delivered a death sentence: she was the tribe's vicious cannon fodder, and the male lead—a brutally tortured slave named Elijah—was currently dying on a totem pole outside. "If he dies, you will face instant soul-detonation." Kaylee rushed to the plaza, using her villainous authority to stop the execution and drag his mangled body back to her hut. But saving him was a nightmare. The original owner's sadism had traumatized him so deeply that her gentle touches and clean bandages only triggered his PTSD. His feral energy spiraled out of control, his golden eyes burning with paranoid terror as he waited for a new, twisted psychological game. To keep his energy from detonating and killing them both, Kaylee was forced to act like a monster. "I didn't save you because I care. A dead slave is useless to me." Only her cruel insults and threats of future torture calmed his broken mind. Adding to her despair, she stumbled upon the novel's supposedly innocent heroine in the forest, only to hear her system detect a terrifying anomaly. The fragile heroine had her own cheat system. Trapped with a paranoid future-tyrant and a rival player manipulating the tribe's strongest warriors, Kaylee shoved a bowl of hot stew at the bleeding slave with a mocking sneer. To survive this hell, she had to play the villain perfectly.
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Chapter 4

Kaylee gripped the edges of the water-filled clay pot, her knuckles turning white. She turned away from the stream, desperate to get back to the safety of her hut.

A massive shadow suddenly fell over her, blocking the sunlight.

Kaylee stopped. She slowly tilted her head up, her eyes meeting a pair of bright, amber-colored slitted pupils.

It was Gus Novak, a young Tiger Shifter warrior from the tribe. He was shirtless, his torso a landscape of thick, corded muscle covered in faint orange stripes.

Gus stared down at Kaylee's pale, clean face and the damp black hair clinging to her collarbones. His Adam's apple bobbed violently in his throat.

A chorus of low, encouraging whistles erupted from the other male Shifters watching from the tree line.

In this world, the biological rules were absolute. Females were the only beings capable of soothing a male's volatile energy. Because they were so rare, males were driven by a desperate, instinctual need to court them.

Kaylee cursed internally. She didn't have time for this primitive mating ritual. She kept her face blank and stepped to the side, trying to walk around him.

Gus immediately stepped into her path, his massive frame an immovable wall.

"Kaylee..." Gus stammered, his cheeks flushing a deep red. "You... you smell really good today."

He wiped his large, calloused hands nervously on his leather skirt. Then, with the eager expression of a dog presenting a bone, he reached into a pouch at his waist and pulled out a bright yellow, perfectly round fruit.

"This is a Sweet Pomelo," Gus said, holding it out to her. "I found it deep in the forest today. For you."

Kaylee knew the lore. Offering a rare, sweet fruit was the ultimate, formal declaration of courtship from a male Shifter.

She stared at the fruit, her stomach twisting with anxiety. She just wanted to save the dying man in her hut.

She opened her mouth to reject him.

"Recommendation: Accept the offering," Alex's voice chimed in her head. "Rejecting a tribal warrior's courtship in public will provoke hostility. Given your current lack of physical power, making enemies is highly illogical."

Kaylee snapped her mouth shut. The system was right.

She forced the corners of her mouth up into a stiff, fake smile.

She reached out her clean, pale hand and took the heavy fruit from his palm. "Thank you, Gus."

Gus's amber eyes lit up like fireworks. Behind him, a thick, striped tiger tail materialized out of thin air, wagging frantically from side to side in uncontrollable joy.

"Let me carry the water for you!" Gus offered eagerly, reaching for the clay pot.

Kaylee took a sharp step back, dodging his hands. "No need. I have to get back and... discipline my slave."

The word 'slave' made the joy instantly vanish from Gus's face. His lips curled back in a sneer of disgust.

"That feral monster is dangerous, Kaylee," Gus warned, his voice dropping to a serious growl. "You shouldn't keep him alive. He'll turn on you."

"I know how to break a beast," Kaylee said coldly, leaning into her villainous persona. "I don't need your advice."

Without waiting for his response, she pushed past him, clutching the pot and the pomelo to her chest. She practically ran the rest of the way back to her hut.

She slammed the heavy wooden door shut, dropping the heavy wooden bar into place.

Kaylee leaned against the door, exhaling a long, shaky breath. She tossed the pomelo onto the stone table and hurried over to Elijah.

She couldn't just use the raw water to clean him. She placed the heavy clay pot over the smoldering fire pit in the center of the room, adding a few dry logs to stoke the flames. It took agonizing minutes for the water to reach a rolling boil, but she refused to compromise. It wasn't completely sterile, but boiled water was infinitely safer than rubbing raw, bacteria-laden stream filth into his open wounds. Once it had cooled to a lukewarm temperature, she knelt in the dirt beside him. Tearing a strip of clean linen from the hem of her new robe, she dipped it into the cooled water.

With agonizing care, she began to wipe away the black mud and dried blood from Elijah's face.

As the grime washed away, his true features were slowly revealed.

He had a high, aristocratic nose, a razor-sharp jawline, and thick, dark lashes. Even unconscious and battered, his face possessed a suffocating, aggressive beauty and an undeniable aura of nobility.

Kaylee's breath hitched. Her heart skipped a beat.

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